Hands Of Judgment

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A Native American Hunter trying to get food, but puts aside his hunger to recognize a situation.

Submitted: September 04, 2012

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Submitted: September 04, 2012



Its almost winter, and the temperature
is just above the freezing mark, i am bundled up
as I sit in my perch, high in a tall pine tree,
on the edge of a thick line of other trees of many types,
surrounding a patch of clear land about an acre in size,
snow has not yet fallen in this area, so there is
is still green to be seen on the ground below,
though most trees are bare, and lacking color

As I wait, I have muffled my breathing, and resisted
the urge to move as not to aware any
passing deer that might fall victim to my waiting
hand of judgment, which is wielding
a wooden recurve bow to take down my victim
with skill and stealth.

after waiting for more than a hour
a deer walks by, its a doe, and i quietly take a deep
breath and load an arrow, then begin to slowly
pull back the string, when i reach full draw I quickly
but stealthily, aim to take a shot at the doe which
I have almost set my hand of judgment upon.

when suddenly she stops and turns to look in the
direction she has come from, i hesitate and begin to hear
what sounds like another deer...no, perhaps...two deer, then they
come into sight, they are the doe`s fawns no more than
four or five months old, hardly old enough to take care on
their own, i lift my falling hand and return the bow to its resting state
letting pass the doe and her two fawns, to live another day,
free of harm from the lone hunters hand of judgment.

By King Wolf

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